


When He’s Not Even Trying

by qwartooty



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian, 中文翻译 | Translation in Chinese
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 00:39:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8644615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwartooty/pseuds/qwartooty
Summary: “Do you have any kinks?”Viktor looked down at Phichit, surprised. “Excuse me?”“Fetishes. Turn-ons. Things that make you go, ‘Oooh! Wow! Yeah!’”“I know what a kink is. Why are you asking me that kind of question?”“Don’t look so scandalized. It’s for my psychology project. Which I just told you about, but you were too busy drooling over Yuuri to listen,” Phichit said.(post episode 7 - In which Viktor is enlightened, Phichit is a little shit, and Yuuri frantically searches for ways to keep surprising Viktor) Chinese Translation!Russian Translation!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [When He’s Not Even Trying](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11140428) by [northernxlights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/northernxlights/pseuds/northernxlights)



> *slides yoi fic across table after not being able to write for months*
> 
> I know there are a million fics out there after THE episode, but here's another one! Episode 8 really got to me as well, and I sorta wish I had included YuriO in this one, but honestly this fic's writing process was a blur... I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also thank you so much to [Iris_muche](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Iris_muche) and [northernxlights](http://archiveofourown.org/users/northernxlights) for translating this into Chinese and Russian! I am so honored, and you both are so wonderful <3
> 
>  [tumblr](http://qwartooty.tumblr.com/)

Yuuri stared at the blinking curser, his mind as blank as the search bar on the screen in front of him. What was he supposed to type in? ‘Ways to surprise Viktor Nikiforov’? ‘Things Viktor Nikiforov likes to see’? ‘How to make a world-famous, champion-ice skater watch your entire routine without getting distracted’?

Yuuri groaned, resting his forehead on the keyboard tray hopelessly. It would be a miracle if any of those searches actually brought up results.

He could hear the clerk at the front desk resetting hotel key cards from across the otherwise-vacant lobby. The repetitive _click-chink, click-chink_ of the machine was starting to grate on his nerves. Yuuri rolled his forehead back and forth on the keyboard unproductively, wishing he was tired enough to forget about everything and go to bed.

That, however, would require going up to the hotel room that he shared with Viktor, who was the source of Yuuri’s current problem. Stupid, oblivious, _distracted_ Viktor.

“I don’t think that’s how you use a computer,” a voice cut through Yuuri’s thoughts.

Yuuri sat up and threw his hands over the computer screen, making a horrible squealing sound in the process. Phichit quirked an eyebrow at his friend’s panicked expression.

“Oh, Phichit!” Yuuri sent an apologetic smile over the top of the computer. “Sorry I left right after the ceremony today. Congrats on getting first!”

“Thanks! Congrats on… are you still in your outfit?” His tone was caught somewhere between concern and amusement as he eyed the fabric peaking out from under Yuuri’s coat.

“I-I haven’t really gone to my room yet,” Yuuri said, hoping Phichit wouldn’t ask why.

“Why?” Phichit asked. His vivid gaze dropped to the computer between them. “What are you working on?"

“Nothing.”

Phichit hummed suspiciously and walked around the computer desk set aside for hotel guests. Yuuri lowered his hands from the screen slowly, afraid that his forehead had somehow transferred his thoughts about Viktor into clear sentences on the keyboard. Luckily, the only thing revealed by the search bar was _ygttttttfgttttttttttttttttiiiiuuu_.

“See? Nothing,” Yuuri said, relieved that his forehead was not proficient in typing after all.

The corner of Phichit’s mouth twitched up. “Well, I did tell you that’s not how you use a computer. Now tell me what’s up.”

Yuuri opened his mouth to speak, but then buried his face in his hands instead. “It’s nothing. I’m just… nothing.”

Phichit slammed a hand dramatically on the desk. “Yuuri Katsuki, how dare you! You are not nothing!”

“You know what I meant,” Yuuri said, dropping his hands from his face. “ _It’s_ nothing.”

Phichit’s expression darkened. “What’s nothing?”

Yuuri instantly felt like crap. He was making his friend worry over him unnecessarily.

“I…” he began, but trailed off as a thought hit him. Was it even fair to ask Phichit for advice? Wouldn’t Phichit feel conflicted about helping his competition?

Before Yuuri could decide the right course of action, Phichit's eyes widened as he sucked in a sharp breath of air. “Ohh,” he said, “I totally get it.”

“You do?”

“Oh, Yu~uri,” Phichit practically sang. His smile was a little too sly, and he tapped Yuuri’s nose with his finger.

“Hey-!”

“It’s about time,” Phichit said, hopping up to sit his butt on the desk. “Alright, tell me everything.”

Yuuri rubbed his nose apprehensively. “Do you even know what I’m talking about?”

“Of course I do. It’s obvious.”

“Is it?” Yuuri asked, disheartened. Was it really that obvious that his ice skating routine was in a funk? Then he reminded himself that this was Phichit he was talking to, and that they’d been skating together for years. If anyone would notice, it would be him.

“Ready when you are,” Phichit said eagerly.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” Phichit grinned.

“You have your gossip face on."

“Is that a problem?”

Yuuri blinked, his apprehension magnified behind his glasses. “I just didn’t realize you were so interested in my issues.”

“Obviously! But we shouldn’t stay up too late. I have to get up early and practice before my flight in the morning.”

Yuuri brightened a bit. “Me too!”

“Cool! Sort of.” Phichit grimaced. “I’d rather sleep in. Oh, and before you dish, just know that I fully support you, so don’t hold anything back.”

Yuuri’s throat felt tight, and he took a breath through his nose in an effort to keep his eyes from watering. He was so grateful to have Phichit as a friend.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice coming out choked. “Seriously, Phichit. Thanks for being such a good friend.”

Phichit shrugged. “I’m really not that great. Lots of people would do the same.”

“You’re the only guy I know who would help his competition,” Yuuri pointed out.

“What are you talking about?” Phichit asked, horrified. “I’m not competing against you!”

“What- Yes you are.”

“No, I am definitely not!”

“Uh, Phichit, we’re both competing.”

“But I don’t want Viktor!” Phichit exclaimed.

They stared at each other.

_Click-chink._

_Click-chink._

_Click-chink._

Yuuri swallowed, hard. “W-What are you talking about?” he whispered.

“What are _you_ talking about?” Phichit hissed back.

“My routine?”

“Your _routine?_ ”

“For the Grand Prix,” Yuuri said, eyeing Phichit warily. “Where we will compete against each other. If I do well in Russia, I mean.”

Phichit sagged, losing all of his previous eagerness. “Yuuri…”

“You don't have to help me if you don't want to,” Yuuri said, his hands hovering between them. “What did you think we were talking about?”

Phichit waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. I’m still going to help you, even if it isn’t about… _that_. Why do you think there’s something wrong with your routine? I thought it looked great.”

“Viktor looked away during my routine today.”

Phichit shot a blank look at the hotel clerk, who unfortunately wasn’t paying attention.

“And?” Phichit asked, turning back to Yuuri.

Yuuri could feel a blush creeping up his neck as he continued, “I told him to keep his eyes on me. _Only_ me. God, that sounds dumb when I’m saying it to you. I know it seems childish, but if I can keep his eyes on me, then I can keep skating. After today, though, I’m scared that he might be getting bored. What if he stops being my coach and starts skating against me and never watches me skate again and laughs in my face and says ‘Yuuri who’?”

“Viktor is never going to say ‘Yuuri who’,” Phichit cut in. “Trust me on that. Unless you’re dressing up as a Dr. Seuss character, which of course you would have to post on instagram immediately so I could see it.”

“Okay, but what do I do now?” Yuuri went on. “I’ve surprised him as much as I can with the flip on the last jump. I’ve thought about adding in quads earlier to keep him on his toes, but I think it has to be a change in my program components instead of my technical skills.”

Phichit held up his pointer finger. “First of all, I need a few seconds to silently celebrate the fact that I was right, and that this was about Viktor all along. I was just a little off about the density of your skull.” He paused, letting Yuuri bask in confusion for a moment. Then he held up a second finger and added, “Second of all, if you want to spice up your program components, of _course_ I’m the one you should be talking to. You want to add a little flare to your routine, right? Something that will keep Viktor engaged?”

Yuuri sat up a little straighter. “You’ll help me?”

“On one condition,” Phichit said, his eyes sparkling. “You let me do a little research.”

***

The following morning, Viktor was still living comfortably in the afterglow of Yuuri’s performance. He smiled smugly against the lid of his coffee, enjoying the warmth against the refreshing chill of the ice rink.

Yuuri propped up a leg on the barrier between them, his ice skate’s blade just missing Viktor’s shoulder. He was wearing his blue tracksuit and black gloves this morning, and his hair was still disheveled from his pillow. “Anything I should correct from yesterday?” he asked casually, grabbing the barrier and leaning forward into a stretch.

“Yesterday?” Viktor reflected on Yuuri’s routine, and the warmth from his coffee seemed to spread to his stomach and chest. “How about working through your jumps first while you have the energy. I’ll tell you if I see anything.”

Yuuri seemed disappointed with the lack of feedback, but didn’t say anything as he finished stretching. Viktor frowned, mentally kicking himself for not being a good enough coach.

 _I always forget to pay attention to your skating when I’m watching you_ , Viktor thought as he watched Yuuri lower his leg gracefully. Then he realized that made absolutely no sense, and he shook his head as if to clear it.

“Pay attention to your elbows. They tend to bend when they shouldn’t,” Viktor lied, but Yuuri nodded as he began skating away and around the rink.

“Good morning,” a voice yawned beside him. The barrier thumped, and Viktor looked down to see Phichit sitting with his back against it, pulling his ice skates out of his bag.

Viktor wasn’t very close to this skater, but he knew he was Yuuri’s old skate mate. He smiled and said, “おはよう!”

“Ooh, you’ve been practicing your Japanese,” said Phichit, not looking impressed at all. He still had his hood up and was concentrating on untying his tennis shoes. “I wonder how different our accents sound to native speakers.”

“Russian accents are considered sexy in most parts of the world,” Viktor said, turning back to watch Yuuri. “Tighter!” he called out after Yuuri’s first jumped.

Phichit rolled his eyes. “Sexy, right. Anyway, I have a favor to ask you.”

Viktor was half-listening. “Oh?”

“I’m doing a psychology project for school, and I’m gathering some data on people from different countries. Which is perfect, since this is an international competition. The project is about kinks.”

“Mmhmm,” Viktor said, not listening at all now.

“Do you have any kinks?”

Viktor was about to hum again in response, but then he opened his mouth and looked down at Phichit, surprised. “Excuse me?”

“Fetishes. Turn-ons. Things that make you go, ‘Oooh! Wow! Yeah!’”

“I know what a kink is. Why are you asking me that kind of question?”

“Don’t look so scandalized. It’s for my psychology project. Which I just told you about, but you were too busy drooling over Yuuri to listen,” Phichit said. He finished tying his skates on and stood up.

“I- I wasn’t-”

“Phichit! Why aren’t you on the ice yet?” a booming voice cut through the chilly air as Phichit’s coach emerged from the bathroom.

“Whoops!” Phichit opened the gate and stepped out onto the ice. He turned to Viktor as he pulled the gate shut and said, “Just make a list or something before we leave. I wouldn’t include your name in the report or anything.”

“But I don’t want to participate,” Viktor told him.

Phichit made a pleading gesture as he skated away backwards.

“Kinks,” Viktor muttered. He was relieved when Phichit’s coach went to stand at the other end of the rink. It was too early in the morning for socializing.

There was a sharp cutting sound of blade lifting off ice, following by a slick thump.

“Over-rotated,” Yuuri said, lifting his hand up to stop Viktor from saying it.

“Don’t lose focus,” Viktor scolded him across the rink. “You only over-rotate when you’re mind’s on something else.”

Phichit was halfway through his warm-up lap. He leaned down as he glided past where Yuuri had fallen. He must have said something, because Yuuri looked after him and scowled, his face aflame.

Viktor’s breath caught, and he leaned forward onto the barrier in an effort to better see Yuuri’s expression. Yuuri got up and muttered something, eyes meeting Viktor’s and looking down quickly.

“Think of any turn ons yet?” Phichit asked as he slid past Viktor.

Viktor nearly dropped his cup, but managed a calm, “I’m not trying to think of them.”

Yuuri stuck to the far end of the rink for a while, skating back and forth and working on his jumps. Viktor called out occasionally, but for the most part, he just watched.

He watched Yuuri’s jaw shift whenever he concentrated on an upcoming jump. He watched his eyes go wide whenever he messed up. He watched Yuuri give a small, satisfied smile after landing six successful jumps in a row. After fifteen minutes of practicing jumps, Yuuri skated over to his coach.

“Viktor,” he said breathlessly, sliding up to the barrier. “Can I have some water?”

Viktor watched a bead of sweat roll down Yuuri’s neck. It shimmered in the lights high above, and as it rolled, it left a shimmering trail on Yuuri’s smooth skin.

“Viktor?”

Viktor snapped back to attention “W-Water? Hang on,” he said.

He ducked into the bag at his feet and dug around. _Was that a turn on?_ he thought frantically. _I mean, it was definitely_ something _._

He found the water bottle and came back up. Phichit was gliding past them, raising his eyebrows at Viktor knowingly.

Viktor glared back over Yuuri’s shoulder. “Here,” he said, deciding to ignore Phichit completely. Yuuri took the water and opened it, tilting his head back to drink.

 _Is this a turn on?_ Viktor thought, watching Yuuri swallow. Yuuri lowered the bottle and pulled it away from his lips with a little _pop_ sound.

 _Turn on?_ Viktor asked himself, and then answered, _Probably not._

“Thanks,” Yuuri smiled, handing the water back. It was a smile that crinkled the skin around his eyes, and it was much too bright for this dark hour of the morning.

_Turn on!_

“Is everything okay?” Yuuri asked, his expression changing to concern.

“Yeah Viktor, is everything okay?” Phichit called out sweetly from where he had paused to stretch. His coach reached over the barrier and knocked him over the head for not focusing on his warm up.

“I’m fine,” Viktor ground out, attempting to murder Phichit with his eyes.

“You look tense,” Yuuri said, lifting his gloved hands to either side of Viktor’s face. “Do you have a headache?”

 _Hand fetish? Glove fetish?_ Viktor was all too aware of Phichit’s gaze on them. He looked down at Yuuri’s eyes, deep and brown and wonderful, and his mind started ticking off features like a grocery list of turn ons.

_Eyelashes._

_Eyebrows._

_Frowning lips._

_Sweaty locks of hair._

_Yuuri breathing._

_Yuuri blinking._

_Yuuri-_

“Yes. Headache,” Viktor lied. “I’ll be fine.”

“Should we go? There’s still time for you to take a nap before our flight if we head back now,” Yuuri suggested.

_Napping Yuuri._

“No, I’m fine. This is important practice time. Go skate,” Viktor insisted. “Probably too much caffeine.”

“Okay…” Yuuri still looked worried, but he dropped his hands. “Let me know if it gets worse.”

Viktor watched him skate away, fighting the urge to look at his butt and see if it was a turn on.

***

On his way out, Phichit walked over to the bench where Viktor was unlacing Yuuri’s skates.

“Phichit,” Yuuri smiled. “It was nice to see you one more time.”

“Don't make this sound like a death bed scenario,” Phichit cringed. “We’re going to see each other at the Grand Prix.”

“Hopefully,” Yuuri smiled nervously.

“Definitely,” Phichit corrected him. He glanced down at Viktor, who was staring at one of Yuuri’s now-bare feet with a look of impending doom. One of his hands hovered above it, fingers twitching slightly. Phichit gripped Yuuri’s shoulder and whispered, “Don’t worry about your routine. I’m pretty sure he looked away because you overwhelm him.”

“O-Overwhelm?” Yuuri whispered back. “Is that good or bad?”

Phichit shrugged, and he turned to poke Viktor with his tennis shoe. “Hey. Don’t worry about giving me that list. You can email it to me later.”

Viktor gripped the ice skate with both hands and looked up. He had a frighteningly bewildered look in his eyes, like a man who just found out he had at least a dozen children and was trying to figure out what to do with them all.

“I have so many,” he said.

Yuuri looked between them. “What list?”

Phichit put his hands in his pockets and smiled. “Oh, nothing.” He turned and gleefully walked toward the exit, where his coach was waiting. “Can’t wait to read it, Viktor!”

“Read what?” Yuuri demanded.

“Don’t worry, I’ll show it to you it at the wedding,” Phichit sang over his shoulder.

“What wedding?” Yuuri and Viktor called back in unison.

“Those two seem to get along well,” Celestino said when Phichit finally reached him. He opened the door into the golden morning sunlight.

Phichit sighed and put his sunglasses on. “You have no idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey you can now read the [wedding fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8800870) that goes along with this one!


End file.
